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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342712">Battery Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof'>slof</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Arguing, Cell Phones, Disconnecting, M/M, Miscommunication, Texting, idk TAGS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Phones to relationships, everything has an end. Everything dies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Angst Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Battery Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Phone calls/Texts</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When he was in junior high, Takahiro never thought he’d use his number. He thought he’d just use his phone to play games underneath his desk when he suspected the teacher wasn’t looking, or maybe he’d write down some things in the notes app so he could slide the small device under his test and pull it out when he needed to cheat. The only time he predicted using the texting or calling app was when he had exchanged a few words with his mother about where he was, when he was coming home, or what he wanted for dinner that night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It worked for those reasons for a while. The only notifications he had gotten were from games or his mother. Takahiro barely had to worry about charging his phone. It was always a high percentage, stayed above fifty, never hit the twenty percent warning that he had heard others complain about before letting out a groan. Though Takahiro found himself never having to worry about that, so he kept on keeping on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he had reached high school and got into the powerhouse school of Seijoh, he didn’t expect anything to change. The first day of school had been boring. Every class was the same settling in, and papers of class expectations, and whatever. He didn’t pay attention. Instead, he played on his phone the entire time to tune out the words of his teachers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His battery hit fifty-five percent by the end of the day just from playing on it so often. He expected that was a one-time thing. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The following few days, Takahiro had been accepted on the volleyball team, of course. He had a good experience from his previous years, and at the time, their school needed good, tall players. Takahiro was one of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three other people in his class were also others who were accepted. Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime — they seemed close. Super close. It was obvious they knew each other before getting into Seijoh. Maybe they went to the same junior high. That was Takahiro’s guess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other was a quieter guy. Dark hair, sulked frame, dropped eyelids as if he was about to sleep while standing and not wait to see if anyone was there to catch him if he fell. Takahiro took an interest in him. He seemed likable enough despite not seeming social one bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro walked up to him that first year during lunch. He found him on the roof by accident when he was wandering around on his phone mindlessly; the older one didn’t have anything to eat so he used his phone to distract himself from his own hunger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he opened the doors to the roof, the other one was sitting there. His back was leaned against the dark green fencing that lined the edges, his head tilted back to stare up at the blue sky that had a few fluffy clouds. A box of half-eaten lunch sat next to him, but he didn’t pay attention to it. Actually, his eyes were closed. It didn’t even seem like he noticed Takahiro was up there with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro slipped his phone away and walked up to him. He tapped the other's leg with the tip of his shoe. “Hey,” he called out. The other finally cracked his eyes open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he replied. “What?” He asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna sit next to you,” Takahiro said. He didn’t wait for him to respond. Takahiro took a place next to him. He picked up the box of lunch and put it in his lap. Staring down at it, he picked up the fork and stabbed one of the half-eaten chunks of chicken before putting it in his mouth. “Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you normally walk up to random people you don’t know and eat their lunch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not complete strangers,” Takahiro replied. “We’re on the same volleyball team,” he said. Takahiro put the fork back down and held out his hand. “Hanamaki Takahiro.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other accepted his handshake. “Matsukawa Issei.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since Takahiro had joined Issei on that roof that time, they fell into a routine of it. Takahiro would come up to the roof during lunchtime, Issei would be there, and his lunch would be half-eaten. The lighter haired one would sit down next to him and finish it off for him. They’d talk or sit in silence. Takahiro would play on his phone; Issei would close his eyes with his head tilted at the sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hanamaki.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm?” Takahiro hummed. He didn’t take his eyes off his phone. The RPG game was a lot more interesting to him at the time. Issei watched carefully as the other’s fingers slid across the screen, darting left and right in a way he didn’t understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How does your phone not die?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My phone?” Takahiro paused his game and glanced up. His eyes met with Issei’s. Dark brown eyes. Really dark brown. Takahiro hadn’t noticed before. Too lost in the LED lights of the phone, Takahiro had never really put attention into anything or anyone else. His eyes flickered quickly to the battery percentage at the top of his phone screen. Sixty percent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “It has a good battery life, I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some battery life,” Issei muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is your phone’s battery life?” Takahiro asked, rolling his eyes as he put his attention back to his game. He unpaused it and leaned against the fencing, his shoulder touching against Issei’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t know,” Issei said. “I don’t have one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that's why you just sit and stare at the sky,” Takahiro said with a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Also, I don’t really have much to say anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Takahiro’s game hit a cut scene. A cut scene he had seen far too many times with his millionth replay. He let his head drop onto Issei’s shoulder, and the two said nothing about the touch. “You should get one,” he suddenly said. “We could text.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Issei hummed. “We could.” He sighed and closed his eyes. With a deep inhale, Issei took in a breath of the afternoon air. “I’ll ask my mom, I guess. Maybe I can get one for my birthday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro nodded. “Nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Issei had said, he asked his mother to invest in thinking about getting him a phone for his birthday. It was strange. He typically didn’t ask for things. Now suddenly he was asking for something that was expensive? It seemed strange to his family. His excuse at the time was that it could help with school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They bought it — his excuse </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the phone. Issei walked into the school building in their second year with a grin on his face. Just as he had expected, he found Takahiro leaned against his locker and typing away on his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger one approached the other and tapped on his shoulder. Takahiro’s attention was taken from the device in his hand, and he glanced up. It was obvious he was about to snap at whoever had interrupted his game, but upon seeing Issei, his face changed. His eyebrows raised; his jaw unclenched; his shoulders relaxed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Matsukawa,” he said. “Did you miss me over the break?” He asked with a cocky grin. Takahiro gave the other his attention. He went so far as to turn his screen off and slide his phone into his uniform pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Little bit,” Issei admitted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do we have the same class?” Takahiro asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei tapped the new phone in his pocket. He hadn’t told Takahiro about it yet. His family wasn’t the greatest when it came to expenses, and it happened to be a late birthday gift. A few days ago, his mother had given it to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. Let’s go check.” Maybe he’d wait until later to tell Takahiro. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunchtime came again. Just like last year, the first day was boring as all hell. Though Takahiro’s phone battery was saved a bit more this time. Instead of playing on his phone, Issei and him passed around childish notes when they thought the teacher wasn’t looking. They couldn’t keep a conversation for more than six lines of messages, the other always found a way to change the topic, and before they could think about it, they were on to the next subject.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time lunch rolled around, Takahiro and Issei were on the roof. His phone percentage was left on eighty as his head leaned back with Issei’s. He copied his position completely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Issei began. “Got something to show you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm?” Takahiro peeked his eyes open. He watched as Issei sat up a little to pull something from his back pocket. Takahiro watched as he held the rectangular shape in his hand and pinched the sides. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A phone. The screen lit up to the lock screen. A stupid background of a calm river. Of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” Takahiro laughed as he reached over and snagged the phone from Issei. “You really got one.” Issei didn’t understand what the other was suddenly doing on his phone, but he watched over Takahiro's shoulder as he clicked around. Takahiro pulled out his own phone and started typing, his eyes darting back and forth from both screens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you do?” Issei asked after Takahiro handed his phone back to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put your phone number in my phone,” he said. “We can text,” Takahiro added with a shrug. “If you want to, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei stared for a moment at Takahiro. Swirling grey eyes that seemed a little hesitant, which was weird seeing it for Issei. He never gave him a look like that before, as if he was scared of what Issei would say next. That was coming from a man who introduced himself to Issei by eating his lunch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Issei nodded. “Yeah—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is where you two go?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro and Issei’s attention was pulled away from each other. They looked toward the doors that led up to the roof and watched as two other people walked over to them. The two approached the pair sitting on the ground, both of them holding their own lunches. One crouched down, the other stood next to Takahiro and leaned his back against the fencing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Takahiro said with a shrug. “Ever since our first year.” Tooru seemed amused by that answer. He sat down in front of the two and crossed his legs, setting his lunch in his lap. Oikawa Tooru. The setter on their volleyball team. Which would make Iwaizumi Hajime the person who stood next to Takahiro. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had learned that the two did, in fact, know each other before high school. Actually, the two had gone back to diapers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come you’ve never invited us, Makki?” Tooru pouted. “We would’ve joined you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we didn’t want you here,” Takahiro snapped back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Makki! That’s rude!” He let out a huff. “We would’ve invited you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why haven’t you before?” Issei asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, we never had an idea where you two went,” Hajime intervened. He walked over and put a hand on Tooru’s shoulder. “Though, Oikawa, if they don't want to hang out with us, they don’t have to. We’re only teammates.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! We’re friends!” Tooru looked at the two. “Right? Makki? Mattsun?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro glanced over at Issei. The younger one gave a small shrug and put his attention back down at his phone. Takahiro took that as a sign to be able to accept and looked back to Tooru.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them grew closer as the school year went on. Hajime and Tooru joined Issei and Takahiro up on the school rooftop after that as well, joining them for lunch as apart of their routine. That didn’t say they didn’t keep to their pairings on the down-low. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hajime and Tooru were clearly closer than Tooru and Takahiro or Tooru and Issei were. The way they’d let their knees touch and shoulders brush, or the way that Hajime only <em>faked</em> getting mad when Tooru snatched some of his food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro and Issei kept to their spots against the fencing. When they finished their food and the four would talk, the two had their knees pulled up and phones hidden behind their legs as they texted each other. Hajime and Tooru picked up on it, but they didn’t say anything about the other’s ‘secret’ texting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The battery didn’t drain much as they sat on the roof using their phones in 'secret'. It was surprising to them, the percentage keeping up in the seventies as they used them from time to time when they’d want to say something without wanting the other pair to hear. Though it wasn’t as if they were complaining. More battery, more time for them.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed every night of their second and leading into their third year, the two were texting each other. They’d ask each other how the other was always before heading straight into a conversation about something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was something that made Takahiro’s chest fuel with energy as he laid on his back, his phone hugged close to him as he watched the texting indicator bounce around on his screen as he waited for Issei’s message. The light of the phone hit his face as he waited in the dark of the bedroom late at night — or could he say early in the morning. They tended to stay up for hours just texting each other, even on school nights.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:13] : hey matsukawa hey</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:13] : hanamaki</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:13] : what would your mom say about texting boys late at night</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:13] : would she scold you</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:14] : bro honestly</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:14] : she’d probably take my phone away</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:14] : unfair</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:14] : seems like you’re a bad influence on me</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:14] : what are you gonna do about it</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:15] : break up with you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:15] : sorry we can’t be friends any longer</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:15] : OR</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [2:15] : we sing mama i’m in love with a criminal and run away together</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:15] : you know what</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [2:16] : i might take you up on that offer</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Takahiro laughed quietly under his breath, careful not to be too loud considering it was two in the morning. He had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop any laughter threatening to slip out and alert his mother who was just on the other side of the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They texted each other over the long break as well. Every opportunity they could, they shot for a chance to plan a time to meet up and hang out. Though, a lot of the time, they couldn’t. Issei’s mother wasn’t strict per se. She was just really protective and always needed help. The middle blocker always seemed tied up with helping his family whether it be with shopping or cooking, cleaning or running errands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two didn’t hang out that much that summer. Takahiro watched his battery percentage hit fifty-five percent one night.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the day before their third year started, Issei and Takahiro wanted to see each other no matter the cost. They were teens who were longing just to see each other again, and they both technically had the time, even if the time was during the night. It wasn’t as if they didn’t think they’d see each other during school. They would, of course. Their classes were together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They just wanted to see each other one last time while they had the rush of the summer break freedom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Figuring out a place for the two of them to meet at the last second was quick and easy. The both of them knew it was their last chance before school began again, and the both of them had stopped being afraid to admit they wanted to see each other.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:37] : matsukawa</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [22:40] : yeah?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:40] : i need to see you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:41] : can you sneak out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:41] : the river</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:41] : after your family heads to bed so you don’t get in trouble</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:42] : please</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [22:42] : yeah</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [22:42] : i’ll be there</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [22:43] : bring something to wear though idiot you’re not stealing my sweater</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [22:43] : deal</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Issei had put away the mess in the kitchen after cooking dinner and slipped into his room to get ready to leave the second his family headed off to sleep; Takahiro was already dressed in warm clothing with a pair of gloves on so he could climb the tree next to his house which branches struck the window from time to time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro headed straight for the place he said he would. The nights were always cold. He buried his hands deep in the pockets of the sweater he told Issei he’d bring. His knuckles brushed against the phone screen. Ever since he put the screen protector on it back in their first year, it made a different noise when he’d drum his fingers against it. It made him feel safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had gotten the protectors back when Issei had gotten a phone. Upon seeing they had the same model, Takahiro gave him the spare as they came in a pack of two; he was originally going to keep it to himself, but he ended up giving it up to the other no matter how clumsy the wing spiker thought he would need the second one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro reached the river he asked Issei to come to. On a large rock that sat close to the water, a tall, large, hunched-over figure sat on it, staring down at the water that sounded like wind chimes as it swam. </span>
  <span>Seeing them made Takahiro smile. He made his way over quickly, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around the figure. They flinched before turning their head to the side to see who had them from behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the faded dyed hair of copper brown. He put a hand over Takahiro’s arm to show some affection back before the other unwrapped his arms around Issei and took a seat next to him. Letting out a happy hum, Takahiro let his head fall on Issei’s shoulder as he stared at the water with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Takahiro muttered. “I already feel better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was it?” Issei asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro shrugged. “Nothing, really. I mean, I just missed you, and with school tomorrow—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean in six hours?” Issei pulled out his phone, and Takahiro glanced down. He looked at the screen that powered on as Issei clicked the button on the side. </span>
  <em>
    <span>1:04. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” Takahiro said with a tired laugh. “And, yeah, I don’t know. School sucks. I’ve never been fit for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you’re going to be jobless.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro elbowed Issei in the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Hey, I was kidding,” Issei chuckled. Takahiro rolled his eyes but not without a smile on his face. “I understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Takahiro scoffed. “You’ve always had good grades.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Issei began, “I guess we’ll just work on them together.” Takahiro lifted his head to look at him. The dark brown eyes changed since the first time Takahiro looked at them before in their first year on top of the roof. Takahiro could read them now. They were soft instead of stoic; calm instead of on-guard; comforting instead of off-putting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro took a deep sigh of relief with that thought. That, at least around Takahiro, Issei seemed less introverted now. He let his head rest back down. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>By the time that Takahiro had gotten home that night and snuck through the window, he realized he had forgotten his phone. He found it on the desk sitting on seventy-six percent.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their last year of high school was most definitely the hardest, though it wasn’t like any of them were going to admit that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei, Takahiro, Tooru, and Hajime had been through the three years together. Maybe they weren’t always there directly, but they were there for each other when it counted. They were known as the Seijoh four, the numbers one, two, three, and four, the setter/ace and middle blocker/wing spiker duos — whatever way that you could creatively figure out a way to describe them. </span>
  <span>They had struggled through the same opponents, matches, and difficulties; they shared the same bus rides homes whether they were filled with happy cries or dejected silence; they passed around hugs and high fives.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seijoh thought they’d be able to experience the happy cheers and pats on the back at least a few more times. They hadn’t predicted their match with Karasuno to be their last one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had all worked so hard too. Takahiro had jumped to the floor for the ball more times than he could count; Hajime had gone up for more spikes than he had before in any other game; Tooru had never put so much concentration into his sets than he had during that match; Issei’s blocks were stronger than ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet they still lost. They still lined up in silence as the other side of the court cheered in Seijoh’s defeat; they still lined up side by side as they gave their supportive audience a bow and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘thank you for coming’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the last ‘thank you’ they’d give as a team; they still shared the tears and sniffles on the way back to the locker room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the team had gotten changed quickly in the locker room and headed for the bus. They wanted to get out as quickly as they could before possibly getting hit with rivals in the hallway who’d either tell them <em>‘good match’</em> or make fun of them for losing against </span>
  <em>
    <span>Karasuno</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Tooru had slipped out quickly, changing out of his sweaty jersey into the warm-up and leaving with Hajime tagging along in silence. Takahiro expected that Tooru was going to find some hallway to breakdown in and Hajime followed for comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, it was only the comedy duo of Seijoh that was left in the locker room. Takahiro stared down at his phone and followed his thumb along the edge of it, staring at his reflection on the black screen. His cheeks had a red tint; his hair was sticky with sweat; his eyes glistened with leftover tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We tried our best,” a rough voice said. Takahiro looked up and over. Issei was leaned over his knees on a bench, staring at the tile of the locker room floor. Takahiro scoffed, and he reached up, grabbing ahold of the locker door and slamming it shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our best wasn’t good enough,” Takahiro muttered. Despite his bubbly personality with the team, Takahiro was barely an optimist when it came to competition. “We should’ve tried harder. Figures. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> should’ve tried harder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Issei stood up. “That’s what you really think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That it’s on me?” Takahiro asked. He lifted his bag from the floor and set the strap on his shoulder. The retired number three jersey crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in a rising tide of anger that was beginning to pick up. “Yeah, Matsukawa. I fucked up a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We all messed up during the game. It wasn’t just you.” Takahiro moved his hands to his pockets. His hand gripped around his phone, a warm prickle hit the corner of his eye. “Hanamaki, seriously. You played well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you even say that?” Takahiro scoffed. “You barely even played! You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> during the last play. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was in meaning that’s on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He turned on his heel toward the door and swung it open. “Maybe if you fucking did something you would understand.” Takahiro slammed the locker door behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On his walk alone to the bus, Takahiro pulled his phone from his pocket. He was ready to plug in his headphones and tune everyone out. Biting his lip, holding his phone felt different. There was something off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when he noticed the crack on the phone screen that cut through and distorted the numbers that read <em>'34%'</em>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei didn’t text him that night.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei and Takahiro not talking didn’t last that long. It couldn’t. Not with the way that Takahiro had been texting Tooru in an utter panic that Issei would never want to talk to him again.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:22] : i’m literally the worst person in the world</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:23] : Makki :(</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:23] : oikawa i basically told him he was useless</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:23] : why the fuck did i say that ???</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:23] : he’s done so much for the team</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:23] : and i’ve basically said that everything that he’s done he hasn’t</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:23] : he’s already </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:23] : ???</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:24] : Already what makki ??</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:24] : he’s not the best when it comes to</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:24] : yknow thinking he’s worth it</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:24] : he has no self confidence</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:24] : and i basically just spit in his face</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:24] : oikawa what the fuck do i do</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:25] : he hasn’t texted me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:25] : i’m too scared to text him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:25] : idk i expect it hurts more being left on read than not getting a text at all</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:25] : how do you feel when iwaizumi leaves you on read</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:25] : He doesn’t :(</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:25] : whatever that’s not my point</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:26] : I think you should just try talking to him</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:26] : did you not hear what i said you stupid shit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:26] : i said i was scared to </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:26] : Makki</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:26] : WHAT</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:27] : Call him</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:27] : WHAT (2)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:27] : I think you two just need to hear each other</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:27] : Talk it out</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:27] : Apologize and tell him you didn’t mean it</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa [19:28] : Mattsun will understand</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:28] : .</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [19:34] : fine.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Takahiro sat on his bed with his feet tucked under him as he stared at the contact he had made in his first year that he didn’t have the heart to change. The stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Matsu’</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the 100 and the fire emoji. His eyes looked around the screen as a way to distract himself from the call or procrastinate clicking the green phone to ring the number. The fifty percent in the corner of the screen; the crack that ran across and made the text slightly hard to read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath and hit call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It rang a few times, and Takahiro was about to give up, hit end, and go to sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though it picked up at the last second.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Matsukawa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing Issei’s voice made Takahiro's break. He choked back a sob, slapping a hand over his mouth to calm down his cries before he tried to speak again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Matsukawa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hanamaki.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Takahiro shuddered out. “I’m so so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was angry and pissed off, and I was wrong. It was wrong of me—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Takahiro.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Takahiro stopped talking; his breathing stopped; his heart in his chest froze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not mad at you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Again, another hitch of breath from Takahiro. The air trapped in his chest stung. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Turn on facetime.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Takahiro sniffled but listened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at the screen, raising it up to show his face no matter how tear-filled and red it was. Issei laughed at him, and he gave him a soft smile. Takahiro noticed the low percentage of his phone then. He realized that if he really wanted a long conversation with Issei, he better not let his phone lose any more battery. Quickly, he reached over to the edge of his bed and plugged it in, watching the lightning bolt appear through the icon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You look like shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you hated me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Issei said with a laugh. He propped his phone up against something. It was obvious he was working in the kitchen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I was just taking care of housework, and I guess I didn’t know what to say,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he explained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But I’m glad you called me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Takahiro said with a smile of relief. His eyebrows were relaxed now. The tint on his face was returning to a normal color that wasn’t the concerning red it had become. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise, but right now, I still have shit I need to do,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Issei said while leaning on the counter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Anything else you’d like to tell me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cracked my phone screen,” Takahiro mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We have screen protectors.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘Oh’, he says. The one who bought them in the first place.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I forgot!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei laughed at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that all?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow at eleven.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Eleven. It’s a date.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Takahiro laughed. He raised a hand and wiggled his fingers in the air playfully, waving Issei goodbye through the camera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“G’night, Matsukawa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Night, Hanamaki.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Takahiro carefully worked to get the screen protector that had been stuck on his screen for almost three years. He dug his fingernail in the edge, dragging and lifting until the plastic lifted off his screen and popped off. After chucking the broken screen protector in the trash, he tilted the screen in the light to look at it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t cracked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone percentage was raised that night after charging. It reached eighty by the time he laid down to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>College started quicker than the two could’ve imagined meaning that separation happened quicker than the two could’ve imagined. Though they were prepared enough for it. They knew what they would have to do to be able to keep in contact with each other despite being a twenty-minute train ride away from each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was facetime after facetime with them. The two gathered together any chance to call that they could. With both of them in school, it was kind of impossible. Work was piled on for both of them all the time, and it made every facetime call the same. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How goes it over there?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Issei asked in his tired voice. It was the only voice that Takahiro heard from anymore. He missed a happier tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Normal,” Takahiro answered. He stood up from his desk and walked over to his bed. Letting himself fall back on it, he set his phone next to his head as he stared up at the ceiling. “Boring. I hate this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You got it, Hiro.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll get through it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Takahiro sighed, and he shifted to laying on his side. His phone was plugged into a portable charger he had been using in his classes earlier that day. He hadn’t gotten around to unplugging it. </span>
  <span>From the angle he was laying at, it was difficult to see the screen, but he could peek at it well enough to see Issei’s face and the bags under his eyes. “Are you getting sleep?” He muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not really.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This semester is almost over,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Issei said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I will sleep like a goddamn drunk baby afterward.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei chuckled softly, which the laugh was probably the most life that Takahiro had heard from him a while. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Promise.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro fell asleep on the call that night, listening to the writing and typing from Issei on the other end. When Issei had realized he had fallen asleep, he whispered </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘goodnight’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and ended the call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thirty seconds of inactivity of Takahiro’s phone turned his screen off at forty percent. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are literally slipping through the cracks, Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Makki, I’m sure it’s fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not!” Takahiro snapped back. He didn’t know why he was getting angry with Tooru. It wasn’t the setter’s fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Makki.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I know it’s eight for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes. In the </span>
  </em>
  <span>morning</span>
  <em>
    <span>.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tooru groaned.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Please. I haven’t even had my cup of coffee yet.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Makki, talk to him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, that doesn’t really solve anything, does it?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tooru asked. There was clinking on the other side, and Takahiro was guessing he was stirring an incredible amount of milk and sugar into his coffee. Takahiro couldn’t judge. They liked their coffee the same: sweet and rid of bitterness. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re making it seem like you don’t even want to connect back with him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then talk to him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” Takahiro sighed. He glanced over to the stack of books on his desk. “Okay, I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Get some sleep tonight too,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tooru added. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You still need to take care of yourself too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up. Goodnight, Makki.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro sighed. “G’night — or morning, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered his phone and stared down at the screen. With a sigh, he crawled on his bed and leaned his back to the wall, moving off of Tooru’s contact to Issei’s. He stared at it for a few minutes, biting his lip and wondering if he should call Issei this late at night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A deep breath later, and he hit call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Matsukawa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What, Hanamaki?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His tone seemed harsh. It was cold, and it felt targeted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you getting snappy?” Takahiro hissed back instead. “We promised we’d call every night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, that’s when we thought it wasn’t going this fucking stressful.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Issei sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry, I’m doing a lot right now. What do you need?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Takahiro sighed through the skin on his teeth. He tightly held his bottom lip between his teeth. There was a slight feeling of relief that he didn’t facetime him. Takahiro didn’t want Issei to see just how much he had stabbed him in the side just then. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Focus on our work. I should focus on mine too. Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Goodnight”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Takahiro closed his eyes as he let his phone drop into his lap. He wanted to hit his elbow back on the wall; he wanted to bite so hard into his lip that he drew blood; he wanted to just scream and say <em>‘fuck all of this’</em>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Takahiro picked up his phone, he stared at the percentage again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T</span>
  <span>hirty percent. Since when had it started to drain so quickly?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting in the cafeteria, Takahiro stabbed his food with his fork. He had been getting lost in his thoughts, staring at the lunch he wasn’t sure why he got considering he wasn’t hungry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing, Hana?” Takahiro glanced up. He watched as the small blonde took a seat in the chair across from him before he went back to playing with his food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look more upset than usual,” Hitoka said. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quit lying,” she said. He sighed and sat up straight. Takahiro let himself fall back into his seat as he glanced around the busy cafeteria. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Matsukawa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Takahiro nodded. “I think it’s the end for us,” he whispered. He didn’t want to say it, but he had to admit it to someone or it would just continue to eat him up inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We rarely talk anymore,” Takahiro found himself saying before he could stop. “It hurts, too, and whenever we do talk, he always seems mad. I get the stress but—” he frowned. “It doesn’t mean that he should take it out on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most high school friendships don’t last,” Hitoka said sadly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Takahiro asked. Hitoka stuttered on her words in search of something to say. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault.” He stood up with a sigh and picked up his uneaten lunch. “I’m going home. Sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Hitoka said, attempting to flash a reassuring smile to him. “Be safe, Hana.” He nodded and gave her a wave before walking away from the lunch table.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Takahiro pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the battery icon. </span>
  <b>
    <span>His mouth dropped, eyes widened. He came to a stop in the hallway and stared down at it with a ruining feeling in his gut.</span>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Low Battery</b>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>20% battery remaining.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [20:16] : we need to meet up </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [20:27] : ???</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [20:27] : hanamaki i’m working on college work</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa [20:28] : can’t this wait</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [20:28] : no</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki [20:28] : </span>
  <em>
    <span>location attachment</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Issei a good thirty minutes to get on a train and arrive where Takahiro was. He walked up to him, seeing as his friend was leaned against the railing set outside of a closed bakery. The street light almost hit him but not quite. It was as if Takahiro was trying to stay out of the light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hanamaki,” Issei called out. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a question,” Takahiro quickly said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t have asked over the phone?” Issei asked with a raised eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Takahiro took a deep breath. He pushed down the hoodie from his head and returned his hands to his pockets. “No, I couldn’t. I needed a face to face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei sighed. “Alright. What’s your question?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did we die?” Takahiro asked quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pardon? Hanamaki, we’re alive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Takahiro bit his lip. “Figuratively. I don’t—” he paused. “I don’t even think I know who you are anymore, Matsukawa.” Issei fell silent, his eyes widened for the first time in months. “Every time I talk to you I feel like I’m—” Takahiro continued, “I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall, and even though not a game, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>losing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tears began to well up in his eyes, but Takahiro didn’t care. He wasn’t one that was afraid to cry in front of others, especially when he was too busy speaking his mind. “I lost you.” He laughed sadly, a hand reaching up to flick away the warm tear strolling down his cheek. “I lost you in a sandbox game. You can’t even lose sandbox games.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hanamaki—” Issei went to reach out to him, but Takahiro took a step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we stop pretending? I thought you were more of a realist than an optimist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Issei bit his lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to keep trying anymore just because we were best friends in high school,” Takahiro mumbled. “We can move on.” He turned around, biting his lip hard, turning it pink to white. “That’s all I wanted to say. Goodnight, Matsukawa.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Takahiro had gotten home that night, his face felt tight with cold, frozen tears stuck to his cheeks. He sniffled and hiccuped a breath as he tugged on his sleeves and slipped the jacket off his back. Takahiro hung it on the hook and fished around in his pocket for his phone. He better call Tooru.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The phone was cold in his hand, and as Takahiro clicked the phone, it didn’t turn on. He frowned at it and walked over to his desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting down, he reached for his charger and plugged it in. It took a few seconds but the screen turned a lighter shade of grey and a large battery popped on the screen. A battery icon that sat in the red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone died.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Twitter @mattsuhana</p></blockquote></div></div>
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